The Second Room's Nightmare
Lunchtime at Soul Academy.
Arthur, who had finished his exam before anyone else and made his way to the dining hall, claimed a spot in the corner and scowled.
Filling his mind at that moment was the second room of the Dungeon Studies exam.
A pitch-black cave with mazelike corridors, so tangled he couldn't tell where the end even was.
And behind him, a massive wolf chasing him down with a deafening clamor.
"I honestly began to wonder if it had even been built to be cleared at all."
There was just one problem. The wolf playing the role of the pursuer was absurdly strong.
Not even Frey Kent's sword, swung with her full strength, had managed to cut through its thick fur.
The magic Joy Partran had painstakingly prepared had failed to deal it any damage either.
When he wondered whether it might be a creature immune to physical attacks, the Saintess herself unleashed a purification spell — and the wolf came through it without a scratch.
It was as if some child had conjured an invincible monster from their daydreams. What in the world was that thing?
At some point, enough was enough.
Arthur grumbled internally, but he wasn't so dense that he missed Lucy's intent.
She had designed it so that it simply couldn't be beaten down, that was all.
Wasn't the way he'd handled the soldiers at the start the same sort of thing?
Not defeating the enemy, but discovering the conditions for victory and passing the trial through them.
At the time, he'd had no composure to study his opponents calmly and had ended up overpowering them rather crudely, but looking back now, the reason that room had been placed first was obvious.
Find the condition. Observe your surroundings, think it through, and overcome the trial.
"In other words, that wolf exists to create a crisis — there's no need to treat it as something that must be defeated."
Arms crossed, Arthur reviewed everything he'd learned at the Academy so far.
Then the first order of business would be to search every corner of the cave for clues.
"...No. Before that, I have to figure out how to shake off that wolf, or nothing else matters."
Speed almost too fast to believe, given its enormous bulk.
Power that couldn't be withstood even with the Saintess supporting them.
And fangs that could bite clean through a bar of iron.
Unless he found a way to evade the beast, exploring the cave itself would be impossible.
Until he discovered how to slip past the thing, his only option was to wander the cave facing death over and over again.
"Pitiful Prince. You're looking positively pale. Another minute and you'll be a ghost, I think?"
At the sound of that snickering laughter, Arthur raised his head, met the condescending eyes of Lucy Aln, stiffened for a moment — and then let out a long sigh.
"You know perfectly well whose fault that is."
"Whose fault, exactly? The one making the Pitiful Prince pitiful is the Pitiful Prince himself, isn't it?"
"...It's your dungeon that made me like this!"
Arthur's brow furrowed at the sight of Lucy tilting her head as if she hadn't the faintest idea what he meant.
A third prince of the kingdom, furious — any ordinary person would have at least glanced around nervously. Instead, Lucy simply turned her laughter up another notch.
"Pfft. Was it really that hard for you? I'd expected more from the Pitiful Prince, but I'm thoroughly disappointed. All that smug showing-off you usually do, and it turns out you're nothing but a loser who only knows how to whine."
...Why did I lose my temper?
I knew perfectly well that whatever I said, the only result would be being ignored.
Why couldn't I hold my tongue for even a moment and avoid being sneered at by this cursed little brat?
"Pitiful Prince. Have you forgotten how to speak now? Have you regressed into a baby?"
"Enough. Just tell me why you've come."
"Hee hee. Are you angry? All worked up because a cute girl provoked you?"
"Lucy Aln."
"Fiiine~ You looked about ready to start sobbing, so I'll let you off here."
Giving a satisfied nod at Arthur's crimson face, Lucy stepped back from the table instead of sitting down.
"...So you merely came to taunt me."
"Hardly. I'm not as idle as the Pitiful Prince, you know."
"Then what is it?"
"Isn't it obvious? I already got the answer to my question, didn't I?"
When Arthur repeated the words, visibly lost, Lucy turned her head slightly and covered her smirk with a small, pale hand.
"Yes. Watching the Pitiful Prince grind his teeth reminded me all over again that the dungeon I made is perfect."
"Perfect? That ridiculous dungeon?"
"Pffahah. You want to deny it, do you? Well, what would the Clueless Loser Prince, who knows nothing about dungeons, understand anyway? I sympathize. Being an idiot must be painful."
"Agh! Honestly! Come here and sit down! I'll teach you the very definition of perfection—!"
"Eek~ You're angry~ How scary, I'd better run~"
Arthur glared at Lucy's retreating figure, veins standing out on his forehead.
Fine. Once I see the end of my dungeon, I'll tell you exactly how flimsy the dungeon you made really is.
Even then, you'll no doubt have some retort or another, but none of it will matter.
Because by that point, you'll be the loser, and I will be the winner.
Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, Arthur felt any thought of eating evaporate and rose from his seat.
"Your Highness? Where are you going?"
"Perfect timing, Frey Kent. Come with me. I intend to throw myself into that dungeon until I have an answer."
"Huh? But I'm eating."
"I'll buy you food until you burst later, so come along. That is a prince's order."
"...You have to buy the tasty stuff."
"Very well. First, we find Joy and the Saintess."
*
At the same time, Arthur's party was far from the only ones struggling to clear the dungeon.
Cecil's group, a gathering of second-year elites, was struggling just the same.
So was the party of Prince Rahvi of the third year.
So were countless other challengers besides.
Every last one of them was stuck in an endless loop of entering the dungeon and being thrown right back out.
The wall standing in their way was the wolf lurking in the second room.
A nightmare that wrung screams from the challengers' mouths — no matter whether they tried physical means, magical means, or even divine means, nothing could bring the beast down.
The wolf was so utterly dreadful that several of those vying for the first clear had thrown in the towel entirely, declaring it simply beyond them.
One of those quitters was Toby, a commoner who had entered the Academy on a martial arts special admission, just like Frey, and the son of a mercenary commander.
At first, he too had aimed for the dungeon's first clear alongside his friends.
It hadn't been Toby's own wish. He'd merely gone along with a friend who was clamoring, 'If we get a charm made by the Apostle of the Art Cult, we could coast through life forever!'
But his friend's greed crumbled quickly in the face of reality.
The first room had gone well enough, right up until it was cleared.
Thanks to Toby directing them using the knowledge he'd picked up growing up in the mercenary corps, they'd broken through without much trouble.
But the instant they came face to face with the nightmare in the shape of a wolf in the second room, Toby's friends hurled the Dungeon Studies exam out the window.
'How are we supposed to clear something like that?!'
Thoroughly terrified, his friends left despite Toby's attempts to persuade them, declaring they'd rather outright fail the course — and just like that, Toby was forced into becoming a quitter as well.
A shame, really.
He had a hypothesis about how to counter the wolf, and now he couldn't even put it to the test.
The proctor had said he was free to find new party members, true.
"Sorry. I doubt I'd measure up to whatever standard you're looking for."
"There's no place in this party for a commoner. Off you go."
"Ahaha, my bad. I'll let you know if a spot opens up."
With not even the first day of exams finished, where exactly was he supposed to find a party with an opening?
Toby had been approaching everyone he recognized, friend or not, asking if they had room — but there was no place for him anywhere.
Whew. At this point, I suppose all I can do is wait and hope.
I'd like to confirm whether my theory was right as soon as possible, but...
No wait. Better yet, maybe I should just ask the proctor if I can enter alone.
Deep in this tangle of thoughts, Toby happened to cross paths with Lucy Aln while moving to sit another exam.
Alone again today.
I'd heard her reputation wasn't good, but even so, it never ceases to amaze me how her side of the hall is always completely empty.
That beauty — the kind that, man or woman, seizes your eyes the instant it enters your vision and simply refuses to let go — that's her, isn't it?
You'd think some fool would lose his reason to the scent of a flower like that and come lunging at her.
Yet everyone just gazes from a distance, not daring to approach. Honestly, it makes me want to find out for myself just how fearsome her infamy really is.
On any other day, Toby would have stopped his thoughts there and looked away.
His father, a mercenary commander, had drilled into him time and again the dangers of nobility.
If he approached on a whim out of curiosity and caused a problem, he'd surely be beaten within an inch of his life by his father. Why on earth would he go near Lucy?
Today, however, was the exception.
Because he knew Lucy had designed this Dungeon Studies exam.
Because he believed that if anyone could tell him whether his theory was right or wrong, it was her.
Unable to master his curiosity, Toby moved his feet.
"Pardon me for a moment, Lady Aln."
"Hm? Pffht. Oh. You look like a stupid golem."
"Toby, my lady. We crossed weapons a number of times in sparring class."
"Did we? Don't remember. Seems your pebble-headed golem skills weren't worth remembering, seeing as you're mega-weak."
It was a dismissal so blunt anyone could see it, yet Toby's expression barely changed. Working in a mercenary corps, being scorned by nobles was simply daily life; he was used to...
"Oh, right. Wait. Don't tell me — are you hitting on me? Pffahah. I must have been so charming you forgot your own place! Sorry~ Pervert Golem. Someone like you is a biological no from me."
...No. It seems I was mistaken about being used to this.
Keeping a straight face is quite hard, actually.
This is my first time speaking with a young lady directly, but I think I understand why people don't approach her now.
"Ahem. No. That's not why I'm here."
"Then what is it? Out with it. My time is worth something entirely different from the time of a background-extra golem like you. Understood?"
"W-well. I heard that you designed this term's Dungeon Studies exam. Regarding that—"
"Ahh~ So you came begging for the answers~ For someone doing that, isn't your head held a bit too high? Does this pedo golem just not come equipped with a kneeling mechanism?"
I'm going to lose my mind.
How on earth do the Saintess and Lady Partran stand being around Lady Aln all the time?
Even now I'm hiding my trembling fists behind my back.
Toby cursed himself for having approached her, but he forced his fury down and pressed on.
He'd already spoken to her; the least he could do was get the answer he wanted before leaving.
"It's about the second room of the dungeon. That wolf. It's an illusion built around a small wolf, isn't it?"
"...Hm."
The moment Toby spoke those words, Lucy's eyes — until then fixed in open contempt — curved like a crescent moon.
And in that same instant, all the noise around them vanished.
As though the two of them had been sealed off from the rest of the world.
"Keep talking. I'm curious just how much of a disaster a stupid golem's theory turns out to be."